Page 120 of Viparious

“So, you want normal shit to be bored?”

She doesn’t answer me and lifts Verena off my shoulder before she stands and walks away.

* * *

Valentin is a slob.I make my way through the shit in the lounge of his floor, not understanding how he turned out the way he did. There’s paint and clay stuck to the floor, which is already drying around the edges, and Viktor pokes his head out of his room. His brows go up when he sees me, and he rushes back inside to pause his game before coming to me. He’s back to being my mini-me, and he has paint on his t-shirt, showing that he’s the particular creative who has redecorated the floor.

When he stops in front of me, I realize he’s not my mini-me anymore. He ignores me and tickles Verena’s foot as he talks to her.

“My dad said you’re staying with us tonight. I have teddies that Dani got me, and you can have them. Don’t tell my dad though, he hugs them.”

The child is more mature than the adult as Valentin walks in with bags hanging off his arms.

“Is Veroushka ready for her sleepover?”

The baby voice makes me second guess who I’ve chosen as the babysitter and my arm tightens around her. But Vitali is fighting, and Dima is organizing everything, so my idiot brother is the only option.

Viktor stares at his dad like the weird fuck he is and his lip curls up as he asks, “Why do you sound like that? It’s creepy. Did you talk to me like that too?”

I don’t let her go until the actual adult is in the room and Dani is dressed in clean overalls for once. She takes Verena from me and kisses the top of her head without doing any weird fucking voice while Valentin argues with his son.

“It’s not creepy. She’s a baby and you used to make weird ass noises all the time. Do you see me complaining about it?”

I don’t want her to cry but she isn’t even phased as I walk away. Exactly like her mother.

Our floor feels different without her here and the baby smell hits me as soon as I walk into the room. Inessa is sitting on the middle of the bed cross-legged, going through the Maximoff Media accounts when she shouldn’t be working. Other than the ugly ass orange socks that match her disgusting pants, she’s dressed in me with only my t-shirt covering her body. She’s probably checking the blind items for gossip. I know she deletes any information given about Anastasia despite their friendship being strained.

Grabbing the edge of the screen, I lift it away from her and say, “Get ready. You have ten minutes, or we’re not going.”

She perks up slightly and then a crease forms between her brows as she checks the date on her phone.

“We’re not going to Grandfather’s until next week. Where are we going?”

Lifting her chin with my knuckles, I plant a chaste kiss at the corner of her lips and give her the only information she needs.

“It’s a surprise. You have eight minutes now.”

She sits up on her knees and wraps her arms around my neck to ask, “Are you killing someone? I need to know whether to dress for murder.”

She’s not going to move of her own accord, so I hold her hips and pick her up. I went forty-eight hours without her voice and it’s back fully as she muses aloud with her head on my shoulder as I take her into the closet.

“No, you wouldn’t take me with you because you’d be a sexist asshole.”

The flowers have all been removed but the cast of her swollen belly is on the wall, glittering away. Setting her on her feet, I move back and take the t-shirt she’s wearing with me.

“Six minutes, or you can leave the house naked,” I promise.

It gets her moving and she pulls a random dress off the rack before deeming it unworthy and throwing it over her shoulder. I live in a house of slobs. My floor used to be pristine, but Inessa is making sure it doesn’t stay that way. She settles on part of her outfit once there’s a significant pile of clothes behind her, then turns to look out of the window. I don’t think she’s zoning out of reality or seeing things that aren’t real, but she tilts her head to look up at the sky and then nods to herself. My wife is insane.

She’s actually fucking crazy. How have I never noticed?

I’m in too deep for it to ever change so her crazy ass better not listen to whatever voices are in her head.

The black dress hugs her figure, and her hips are wider now, making her ass more prominent as she bends at the waist to pick up a pair of black boots. She’s definitely dressing for murder, to be the fucking cause of it. She might be insane and bratty, but when she stands on one leg to put her shoes on, I move with this need to make sure she only ever knows comfort and ease. It overrides everything as I drop down in front of her and take the boot from her hand.

One knee skims the floor as I pull her ugly sock up and then the boot up to her thigh. She holds my shoulder for balance and speaks slowly. “I thought you don’t kneel?”

I do the same to her other foot and look up to watch her scrutinizing me. She’s staring at the small shadow under my knee. I drop it so it’s fully touching the floor and her lips twitch as her eyes come back to mine. My voice is low, filled with reverence as I stand without removing my hands from the backs of her thighs.

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